Providence Defied
by Rose of Osiris
Summary: Devil Duo becomes jealous when his beloved Angel, Quatre, falls for a human. AU. Shonen-ai
1. Challenge of Providence

**Providence Defied**

_This is an AU (Alternate Universe) fic, but hopefully will not be too OOC. I have had the idea for the story for quite some time and Duo & Quatre simply seemed to fill the roles best._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing; I am merely a deluded fangirl drifting from one fic to the next…_

**Chapter 1**

Deep in a verdant and peaceful forest, far removed from the turmoil of civilisation, two beings, somewhat contradictory in character, but friends nonetheless, relaxed in the quiet shade of aging oak trees.

Both too tall to be humans, they yet had the faces of teenage boys. One seemed gentle and serene, his blonde hair adding to his innocent appearance. Only his eyes betrayed his true age, tempered as they were by the trials of time; watching the world change; seeing nations rise and fall. Yet they retained a visible sparkle, a testament to the joy that had ever been a part of him. He could not help but feel sheer wonder at every detail he perceived and a deep contentment in his belief that everything was in its place and that all was _right_.

This boy, as he seemed to be, was truly beautiful. His raiment was simple, being purely white, and yet he radiated an inimitable light and warmth which affected all it touched, rejuvenating the very flowers and trees about him, every plant brightening as it turned towards his radiance. His lips formed a perfect cupid's bow, touched by a soft smile, whilst his slender hands, as pale and delicate seeming as those of a young woman, were neatly folded over his knees. Leaning against the wide trunk of a tree, he watched his companion in silent amusement.

This other had a darker air about him; a macabre beauty that could not be denied. His lithe form was clothed in the black garb of a priest in slight mockery of his friend, and his black, leathery wings were spread awkwardly to save them from abrasion on the forest floor. In his long hands he held a collection of dry leaves and twigs, and his narrow, pointed tail flicked back and forth unheeded as he focused his blue-eyed gaze on the small bundle of tinder, willing it to light as, effortlessly, he found his centre, his whole frame becoming completely still for a moment, even his ticking tail.

A dark flame rose between his palms, quickly engulfing the dry material, and he raised his head, grinning impishly at his companion as the flames licked around his fingers. Tenderly, he placed the ball of fire amongst the various twigs neatly arranged in a circular pile before him, and watched, entranced, as the flames spread hungrily. Then, springing to his feet, he hurried to his companion who smiled warmly up at him, applauding his efforts.

'Come on, Quatre, stand up; you look incredible in firelight', he implored his seated friend, extending his left hand to him. Quatre compliantly took the offered hand in his own, rising to his feet gracefully, smiling inwardly as he observed the other's rapt expression. The other simply watched expectantly, admiring his companion's grace and elegance, involuntarily squeezing his hand, as awestruck as ever he was when he saw the Angel unfold his grand bright wings. They arched up over Quatre's shoulders, the tips just brushing the ground, brilliant white, but shimmering on the edge of one's vision with colours known and unknown.

'Duo?' the Angel whispered, his voice like a song on the wind, as he delicately removed his hand from the other's grasp, waking him from his enchantment. The young devil flashed him another grin, exposing his sharp canines, before dragging Quatre towards the crackling fire. They stood facing each other in the firelight, Angel and devil, each marvelling at the shadow-play on the other's features. The light on the iridescent wings reflected with all the hues of a glorious sunrise, Quatre even appearing to glow, whilst, in contrast, his companion seemed to absorb the light, but for that which gleamed on his long braided hair or glinted off his fangs, and his sapphire eyes burning from the depths of shadow on his pale face.

For a long moment they stood, simply studying each other in silent wonder. Then, Duo's nose twitched and he snapped his head round to glare in the direction of a startled gasp from amongst the trees. Quatre followed his gaze in bewilderment, having heard nothing.

Hesitating on the edge of the clearing, a young girl met their stares with an awestruck gaze, subconsciously tidying herself up for the eminent beings before her.

'Mariemaia', uttered Quatre, surprised, recognising her to be the adventuresome child who dwelt in a remote cottage on the edge of the forest. As if hearing her name gave her confidence, she stepped forward, studying them intently. Finally, she smiled, pointing at Quatre with a gleam in her eyes,

'Ooh, you're going to be in so much trouble when God finds out,' she crowed delightedly, giggling as she scuttled off into the forest. The two friends gazed after her in stunned silence, then, at last, Duo began to chuckle, a resonant sound, complimented by the higher, melodic laughter of his friend, like so many little silver bells.

When they finally regained their composure, the Angel smiled sadly at Duo, whose mirth had caused him to lean rather heavily on Quatre. He seemed reluctant to let go.

'She did have a point, I fear.' Duo drew back, confused, clasping his friend's shoulders with both hands as he held the Angel's azure gaze,

'What do you mean?' Gently, Quatre removed the hands from his shoulders and lowered them to the devil's sides, where he held them a moment longer before releasing them and stepping back, his eyes never leaving those of his companion.

'My absence would be noted, and the cause, if discovered, greatly disapproved of.'

'There're tons of you up there; they'd never know…' Duo countered hopefully.

'They would know' the Angel assured him 'and if they got to know of you, the consequences could be dire.'

'Why? If He's so accepting then why can't you befriend who you choose? Y'know, you might even have a good influence on me.'

'They do not know you as I do. They do not see the good heart you have inside,' Quatre replied gravely, privately wishing that Duo could let it drop for once. Parting with the young devil became more difficult each time, but, as much as Quatre desired to stay, to do so would be to put himself, and more importantly his dear friend, at great risk. Duo stepped towards him again, pasting a hopeful grin onto his face.

'Do I at least get a kiss goodbye?' He already knew what his noble friend's answer would be. Quatre winced visibly and turned away; this was becoming more than he could bear, but he was startled by the faint bitterness he heard in his own voice as he replied, struggling to keep his voice steady.

'You know that is not possible; it would be to defy providence itself.'

'All the more fun' Duo quipped, though he knew his efforts were in vain. The Angel glanced back over his shoulder, smiling sorrowfully once more, before fading.

Duo threw up his hands in exasperation, muttering a few words he knew his companion would have disapproved of, then turned and walked purposefully towards a tree where he, likewise, promptly vanished.

_First chapter complete! I hope it makes sense; I wrote it whilst ill and sleepless. I am quite pleased with it though. Please review and tell me your opinions. Farewell for now. -Rose_


	2. Tears on an Angel's Face

**_Chapter 2_**_… I spent a long time considering the wording of this chapter. And due to my speedy recovery from illness (many thanks to Lionheart for their condolences regarding my malady) and also the __Rugby__ finals, I have had less time to write. Anyhaps, I have completed it, so here it is, after my gratitude to Lionheart, Weissangel24 and Elmo for their reviews –thank you- and the disclaimer._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing and am too sleepy to think of anything more creative to type.

* * *

_

Beneath the spreading boughs of an aged willow, in a serene and secluded garden, Quatre sat in quiet contemplation, his delicate features a mask of unhappiness. Wrestling with his emotions he wondered how he had come to this; he had never experienced such feelings before. He had changed, it occurred to him. Since he had met Duo, half a decade before, he had begun to succumb to emotions he had never known existed. And to confess all this to another of the Angels would be almost blasphemous; that he was consorting with a creature from Hell, that he had _feelings _for this being, was unthinkable.

'You should not be woeful in a place of such beauty' a familiar voice remarked. Quatre glanced up at the approaching figure, a spirit, fully corporeal in this world of apparitions, whom he had become quite close to, seeking guidance from him in all manner of matters.

Dressed in the gold-brocaded finery of his time, the spirit seated himself beside the Angel on an ornate, white marble bench of his own design. Though he knew he would suffer no grass-stains in this place, his lingering mortal instincts recoiled at the thought of risking his fine attire.

Quatre was not at all surprised at being elevated from the ground by the sudden change in scenery. The garden would alter in accordance to the desires of any within it, and he was aware of his friend's patrician-like sensibilities.

'Ever the aristocrat,' he remarked genially, grateful for the comforting hand on his shoulder. The spirit smiled wryly, not countering the observation, as he waited for Quatre to disclose his worries. Oh, Treize,' the other began hopelessly, 'What am I to do? I know that my friendship with Duo is unacceptable by heavenly standards, that it would be believed that I was in his thrall; perhaps I am. I do not understand what I am feeling. All of this is new to me.'

Treize waited patiently for Quatre to finish, his compassion for the Angel growing as he recognised his friend's predicament. Placing his arm fully about the Angel's shoulders, he held his gaze empathetically as he tried to explain.

'You are experiencing doubt, my friend, doubt in yourself and in all you have been taught of good and evil. You are an Angel, a messenger of God, and all you have ever known is God and your absolute love and worship of Him. It is unusual for one of your kind to feel anything else; a sad thing, really.

'Do not attempt to suppress your emotions, however, Quatre; they are a valuable part of you, the part that allows you to be my friend, and, unquestionably, the reason your devil loves you so.' Treize considered the implications of this. He knew the likely fate of his friend should he continue along his present course, but he knew also of the torment the gentle blonde would experience should he try to deny the passions already so strong within him. 'Spend a day amongst the mortals; see how they cope with such sentiments. I believe you will learn much.'

Reaching down, he plucked a shimmering white flower, watching appreciatively as another grew in its place. 'It is a shame we are caused to take so much for granted' he mused, placing the flower in his friend's distractedly fidgeting hands. He waited for the Angel's eyes to meet his and gazed into them intensely. 'You are something beyond beautiful, Quatre. Never let Them change you'. With a final half-smile, he turned, striding off into the surreal haze of the paradisal garden.

* * *

The faded blue jeans and loose white t-shirt felt strange to Quatre as he moved with faltering grace through the busy streets of London, trying to become accustomed to his lack of wings. It was barely midmorning, yet already the city both horrified and fascinated him. He had seen poverty; people languishing on doorsteps or dying in the gutter, unheeded by the bustling masses. He had never imagined that such could be possible in his God's world. But he had also seen hope; brilliant musicians and talented artists, plying their trades on street-corners, trying to work their way up in society. Lost in thought, he stumbled for the seventh time that morning, into the outstretched arms of a stranger.

'Easy there,' a warm voice directed him. 'You fall over here and you'll be trampled. No one will stop to help a stranger.'

'Thank you.' Quatre murmured, righting himself. 'I am unused to this form.' It did not occur to him to lie to the person. Smiling gratefully, he turned to his rescuer. A boy, about the age Quatre appeared to be, regarded him curiously with one green eye, the other being hidden by a wave of brown hair which covered the right side of his face. 'My name is Quatre', he told the boy breathlessly, taken by the simple charm of the figure before him.

'Trowa' the boy replied offhandedly, his hands now in his pockets. 'Triton really, though it's not a name I care to use.' The sudden startlement which crossed the boy's face told Quatre that he had been party to a seldom divulged piece of information. He hoped that this revelation would not discourage Trowa from further conversation with him, surprising himself with the depth of emotion he already felt for this stranger. To his relief, however, the boy quickly recovered his casual indifference. 'Where are you headed?' he inquired.

'Wherever I can find answers' the Angel replied truthfully, not knowing how else to explain.

'Come with me then.' Trowa instructed, guiding the blonde towards a large, red vehicle. 'You can at least tell me your questions.' Pressing a coloured piece of paper into his hands, upon which the words 'Big Bus Company' were printed in large letters, the boy gestured to Quatre to follow his example as he boarded the waiting bus, politely refusing the earphones for the audio-guide.

'You are not like the rest of them.' Quatre remarked as he seated himself beside his new-found friend. 'You said yourself that no one else would have helped me' he elaborated when he did not receive a reply.

'Someone has to look out for types like you' Trowa remarked.

'Like me?'

'Lost in a dream. There's no place for dreams here, not for the likes of us anyway. See Hilde there?' the boy indicated a huddled figure at the back of the bus. 'She sleeps in here every night. Howard's a good driver; he doesn't mind, but the others would throw her back onto the street. She's one of the lucky ones.' Quatre was entirely bewildered.

'How can humans allow their own kind to live in such squalor?'

'It's all they've ever been taught' the boy explained. 'We're barely even human to them, not worth their spit. But you can't judge them for it; they don't know any different.'

'Why does God allow this to happen?' Quatre murmured to himself.

'I used to believe in a God, but, over the years, I've come to doubt him' Quatre started as Treize's words came back to him, but he allowed the boy to continue. 'These days I believe you've just got to make the best you can of what you've got. Living from one day to the next, that's about all you can do.'

'Then why do you go on, if all is so hopeless?' Quatre's tone had become desperate, but he did not miss the look of pure consternation in his companion's emerald eye.

'Because we have to, I guess,' Trowa faltered 'and because we continue to hope that, someday, we will find something, or someone, worth living for.' Quatre saw the tears glistening on the boy's cheeks, even as he felt the moisture rising in his own eyes.

Trowa rose, indicating that they should leave. 'What are you?' he asked the Angel after leading him to a quiet corner of some large park. 'When I first saw you, I knew you were unusual, but you're not human, are you? You're too pure, too naïve to be one of us.'

'I am sorry that I deceived you' Quatre apologised with a pained expression. 'I am an Angel, if you are willing to believe it, seeking answers as I told you. There is a God, in the loosest sense of the word, though I too, I confess, have begun to doubt.' He revealed his wings, unconcerned by the faint sound of cotton tearing as his t-shirt was destroyed. 'Thank you, Trowa; you have taught me more by far than I could have hoped.' Trowa did not seem at all shocked by this revelation. He simply continued to regard the Angel with the same detached curiosity.

'Will you return?' was all he asked.

'To see you?' Quatre smiled wholeheartedly. 'There is no power that could prevent me' he assured the boy, believing his words entirely as he faded from sight.

* * *

_I resent MS Word for not recognising 'paradisal'. It seems it will only accept the synonym 'paradisiacal' which I feel simply does not flow as well, or sound as pretty. Anyhaps, enough of that. Thank you for reading and further gratitude if you decide to review. Until next time. -Rose_


	3. A Devil May Cry

**_Chapter 3_**_…I begin with an apology for my delay in posting. Several days attacked me at once, then suddenly a fortnight had passed without my having written anything. But here it is; chapter three. This is something of a chapter to describe aspects of background so the plot makes sense; please bear with me. Oh dear, I am being long-winded again, so, to the disclaimer…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Gundam Pilots or any of the other characters mentioned in this fic._

* * *

Duo glowered sullenly at the events unfolding before him on the glassy surface of a stagnant pool by which he lay, his chin resting on his fists whilst, with his tail, he absently turned a large wheel of obsidian upon which a teenage boy was bound, his eyes closed in concentration. A low growl reverberated in the devil's throat as he shifted his position uncomfortably, flexing his fatigued tail.

'Y'know something, Wufei?' he sighed. 'Those guys up there have no idea. They think we enjoy working down here, but it's exhausting, not to mention depressing hearing everyone's story. Why're you down here again?'

'Rape' the dark-haired teenager replied tersely without opening his eyes.

Oh, of course,' Duo rolled his eyes as he remembered, 'like Ixion'.

'Indeed, my dear servant; just like Ixion who tried to rape the goddess Juno and suffered eternally after for it' a soft voice interjected from nearby. Duo sat bolt upright, turning to watch the approach of a patch of shadow darker than the rest. A faint moan escaped his lips as, just as ever, he was awestruck by the magnificence of his Master, Lucifer.

The fallen Angel emerged from his accompanying darkness as if shrugging off a simple travelling cloak, but he himself was far from simple. Platinum tresses framed his perfect features; his high cheekbones and piercing grey eyes. There was nothing of harshness or cruelty in that intense gaze however; millennia of torment and regret, perhaps, if one sought to look that deeply, but no bitterness. His form seemed to trap the dusky light of the cavern rather than reflect it, as did other Angels, affording him a dark radiance which he carried with majesty. He towered over Duo, a forbidding figure, but his smile was warm. 'Of course, 'twas the wind that turned the wheel of Ixion according to the legends.'

'Hn, typical' Duo huffed, abandoning his task for the time being, then smirking slightly as Wufei struggled to suppress his annoyance at being left upside-down.

'My dear Duo' Lucifer breathed affectionately, though not failing to cast a similarly amused glance in the direction of the stranded teenager, 'will you never be happy with your lot?' With a gesture, he bid the young devil stand and beckoned him to himself. Willingly, Duo got to his feet, clasping his Master's hands as he raised his eyes to meet the Fallen One's searching grey orbs.

For a long while the dark Angel simply held his gaze before raising one delicately arched eyebrow, chuckling softly. 'You are in love' he stated with a slight smile 'and with an Angel. My marvellous young one, you are almost as bad as I'. Duo began to stutter some form of apology before he noticed the wicked approval in Lucifer's eyes.

'Master?'

'I may have a remedy to this situation of yours. It would also free you from your position here; Wufei's punishment is to turn until the one he wronged finds new love.' Duo regarded him in silent perplexity.

'I won't be here for eternity then?' Wufei asked passively during the lull in their conversation.

'Most certainly not; all here must endure only until they have repented for their wrongs. Those dear mortals above us assume that the space we have is infinite. They simply cannot comprehend the magnitude of that concept, especially given our confinement to this limited space below them. And hence another disparity between this and the fate of Ixion, for he was to be punished for all time.' Duo grimaced as he sensed the imminence of another speech about ancient poetry. It held no interest for him, yet his Master seemed captivated by it.

'Why?' he muttered under his breath.

'You must learn to read Latin, my precious Duo, then you too may appreciate the captivating imagery of the ancient poets.' The fallen Angel's tone took on a harder edge.' And you must learn to watch your tongue. Never forget whom you address.' He allowed the young devil to drop to his knees in apology before him, before spinning away, leaving his servant bewildered. 'My proposal' he reminded him flagrantly, enjoying the braided devil's confusion. 'You are to find the boy Wufei wronged and bring him to the mortal your Angel has taken such a liking to. They are perfectly matched in their beliefs; both are grim fatalists.' Lucifer flashed a wicked grin at Duo. 'They are not so far apart for now. Lead them to each other; neither shall be able to resist your charms.' He had been gesticulating wildly throughout his dialogue, but now he froze, fixing Duo once more with his intense gaze as he awaited his servant's response.

'Quatre would be devastated' Duo whispered uncertainly.

'Without a doubt, but he would also be enchanted by the love shared by the two mortals. You forget, Duo, I have experience of such things.' A glimmer of pain flashed across the fallen one's features as grim recollections of his own past came to him. Duo missed the expression, deeply considering the implications of Lucifer's statement. He knew his Master's story, and though he revered him, even adored him, he feared this Prince of Darkness, could not understand why he had defied one who, by all accounts, had loved him so completely. And now Quatre was in the same position; would the same thing happen to him? Duo could not bear to think of the Angel changing so, dared not even try to envision in Quatre's blue eyes the ages of torment he saw each time he met his Master's gaze. And that Quatre might become so cruel…

'Why are you helping me?' he asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice. Lucifer glanced at him sharply.

'Because I can' he answered tersely, alarming Duo with his sudden change of tone. 'Because it would be a fine prank to play on He who has forsaken me, and, Duo, because I am not as terrible as you believe. And do not worry so about your Angel, he will never become like me; I have my arrogance to blame for that. Of course I admit it, don't look so incredulous, it is a common enough speculation.' Duo's already pale skin whitened as he realised the dark Angel had heard his thoughts. 'But I did not 'defy' my Lord as you so guilelessly believe. There was no betrayal on my part; I did what I felt I had to do. You may be right to fear me, my servant, but you must find better grounds for your mistrust.' Lucifer's expression was cold as he turned away a final time, summoning the shadows to him as he strode from sight.

* * *

'It is imperative that we talk, Quatre.' From his position under a tall oak where he awaited the arrival of his devilish friend, the introspective Angel rose quickly to his feet, recognising the voice behind him. He turned to greet the other, an Angel like himself, but taller with wings of all the blues, greens and golds of a peacock's feathers. Silver curls cascaded around his boyish face and his expression was warm, though concerned, as he extended his hand to Quatre. 'You are treading a dangerous path, my friend, and one that has been traversed before to no good end.' His silver eyes were beseeching as he tried to make the younger Angel understand. 'I would be happiest if you would return with me now, but I know you will not. Promise me you will end this, Quatre, after today.'

'I cannot make that promise, Michael.' Quatre's voice was pained as he tried to think of some way to reassure his friend.

'Then promise me that you will be careful.' Michael plead, desperately. 'I cannot remain much longer.'

'That, I can promise.' Quatre replied emphatically, embracing the taller Angel, touched by his concern, but quite bewildered as to the reason for his friend's outburst. Michael regarded him gratefully as he faded.

'I will be looking out for you, little brother.'

'Michael?' inquired an incredulous voice as Duo materialised from the shadows of a nearby sycamore. 'I thought Gabriel did all that stuff.' Quatre started visibly, having quite forgotten his original purpose in the clearing. After taking a moment to clear his thoughts, however, he became conscious of the braided devil's question.

'He used to, but our Lord felt that he was getting too much publicity' he began to explain, distractedly, 'and so He asked him to share the job.' The devil raised an eyebrow, waiting for Quatre to continue. 'After that, Gabriel had quite a tantrum; he has been sulking for a few decades now, leaving Michael to carry out all his duties.' A slow grin spread across Duo's face, then, completely losing his composure, he dissolved into laughter.

'This is just too much' he cackled. 'Imagine, old Gabe in a strop.' Duo had very little sympathy for the derisive Archangel who had ever treated him and his kind with utmost contempt and more than a little disdain. The devil's mirth quickly banished his friend's anxieties and the Angel looked on with amusement.

'Duo, really' Quatre chided him lightly, barely able to contain his own smile. As well-meaning as Gabriel was, he did possess a degree of self-righteousness that could make a saint cringe; Quatre finally allowed himself to succumb to his companion's contagious grinning then, as he recalled an occasion when it actually had. _:Dear__ Peter: _he mused, considering the kindly gateman.

'Seriously though, Q' Duo said, sobering his tone, 'he's that far up himself…' he paused. 'We're not the bad guys, y'know; we're just doing our job. We're not that different from you in that respect.' He stared into the Angel's eyes seeking some sign of understanding.

'But, Lucifer' Quatre began, confused.

'Do you know why Lucifer fell, Quatre?' Duo interjected, his voice suddenly harsh. 'Do you know why he got kicked out of heaven? Because he had the nerve, the sheer _audacity_ to fall in love.' The devil's eyes blazed as he finished the statement, watching the weight of his words settle on his friend. Quatre stood stunned, his eyes wide and unseeing. All he had ever heard was that Lucifer had been a traitor to God, that he had not been truly devoted in his worship. He had never been told the actual nature of the fallen one's 'crime'. Silently, he considered himself; was he then also evil?

Duo's expression softened as he saw how shaken the Angel was.

'Hey, Q, don't worry; you're too nice a guy for that. Just, be careful, like Michael said. Don't get too attached to this Trowa guy you've met…' he stopped, realising he had said too much. Quatre regarded him in puzzlement; how had Duo known about Trowa? He decided to let it pass for the moment, he had too much else to think about and the young devil simply did not understand the implication of it all.

'He wishes me to stop seeing you also' Quatre whispered flatly. Duo's eyes widened; somehow that had not even occurred to him. He no longer considered himself any different to his Angelic counterpart. 'Duo, I have to think this over' The Angel explained, raising a hand as if to caress the devil's face before drawing it back sharply, a look of consternation in his eyes as he faded from sight.

Duo stared at the now empty space before him in dismay, feeling a warm trickle run down his cheeks. With the back of his hand, he wiped away the moisture, regarding the unfamiliar salty trail with confusion.

'Tears?'

* * *

_Hmm, please forgive any incoherence in this chapter; I threw it all together in one night. Still, I believe I am getting somewhere. Anyhaps… although I understand Lionheart's comment on reviewers, it is a habit of mine to always express my gratitude. Still, I can see that this would become tedious for any readers, so now I shall thank all who have reviewed thus far and any who do so in the future, and leave it at that. A happy compromise, ne? Until next time. -Rose_


	4. Even Angels Gossip

**_

* * *

Chapter 4_**_…Has it really been so long since I last posted a chapter? I was attacked by deadlines, you see, plus, my computer crashed (again) and was therefore unusable for a time… Excuses aside, I apologise for, again, taking so long to update. The surge of coursework has died down for a time, so I now have time to write, at least until the next wave. Hmm, what else have I to say? Ah, yes; your inference was correct, Lionheart, as, hopefully, shall be made clear in this chapter. And yours, Chaz, I shall leave open to speculation._

_Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fic._

_Sentences in italics are memories._

* * *

'How went it, Quatre?' Treize inquired genially, placing an arm about his friend's shoulders as he led him to a newly-formed bench on the edge of a grand, marble plaza. 'What did the experience teach you?' His smile faded as he saw the sorrow in the Angel's eyes and, seating them both on the bench, he used his free hand to turn Quatre's face, gently, towards his own. 'What happened, my friend?'

* * *

Heero Yuy hated to feel that he was being followed, and this was the distinct suspicion he had as he moved expertly through the back-alleys of London. He had been in the city but three days and yet had learnt the precise lay of his immediate surroundings. He did not concern himself with any personal justification for this, he simply saw it as the only way he could feel, if not secure, at least prepared. It was necessary.

His expression was firm, dispassionate, yet his mind was fevered. Behind his sweeping gaze were the shadows of anguish. Each corner could hide an ambush or, worse. _A lone enemy with black hair and dark eyes, and long-fingered hands with skin like ice_. Whoever had said _'_cold hands, warm heart', he wished he could have met them, that he could have looked into their eyes and let them see the torment those words had caused him; the pain and the repressed memories, shadows on the edges of his consciousness, taunting him.

Furiously, he forced himself to concentrate, listening intently as he mounted the stairs to his apartment, his right hand falling instinctively to the pistol secreted within the many folds of his trenchcoat. From where he was he could see that his door was ajar. _Trudging homeward through the snow; why was the front door open? Perhaps Relena had returned early… he sincerely hoped not._

Having stealthily approached the peeling, once-white door, Heero burst into the main room of his apartment, firing a single shot at the expected intruder.

Duo slid from the windowsill to land lightly on his feet, not flinching as the easily dodged bullet flew past his face, but smirking slightly at his attacker as he heard it penetrate the glass behind him.

'Hey, Heero,' he chirped cheerfully, 'I was wondering when you'd get back.' Heero froze, willing himself to focus on the situation; this was too familiar, but he could not allow himself to crumble. _Gracefully unfolding from his relaxed position on the window-seat, the unknown Chinese boy began to stride purposefully towards him._

_'You return at last, Heero Yuy. I have been waiting for you'_

Duo was pleased to see his actions having the desired effect. Conversation with Wufei was never easy and it had taken a great deal of effort to wring from him these few details of the sullen boy's encounter with Heero. Confidently, he approached the perturbed boy, grinning all the while as, with his left hand, he forced Heero to lower his gun.

'Now that's no way to treat a visitor.'

'Why are you here?' Heero forced himself to remain expressionless, his tone dispassionate though he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead. Who was this that could dodge bullets? Who was this stranger that knew his name; who acted so alike to Wufei? Uncomfortably, he dropped his gaze, unable to see his visitor beyond the sneering image in his mind.

'I just figured you'd be needing somewhere else to play, seeing as how I burnt down the gazebo and all…' Duo informed him merrily, ignoring his distress.

This statement, however, roused Heero from his gloom. Alarm was plain on his features as he registered the stranger's words, desperately trying to discern whether they were spoken in truth. Seizing a sizeable black case, which had been propped against the wall beside his unmade bed, Heero flew from the room, hastening to the quiet park where he spent so much of his time.

* * *

'Don't be bitter, Quatre; it contradicts your gentle nature.' Treize turned the Angel's face towards his own, meeting his friend's confused stare with his own steady, blue-eyed gaze. 'The holy hosts are simply concerned for you, Quatre. They do not understand the complex emotions you feel; they cannot. Don't condemn them for that, my friend.' Quatre turned his face away, staring at the polished floor for a moment before lifting his azure gaze once more. Crystal tears stood in his eyes and, as he spoke, escaped singly, trickling silently down his pale cheeks.

'But why? Why am I so very different?' His voice was quiet now; it had reached levels of near-hysteria during his recounting of his recent experiences, but now he spoke in what was barely a whisper. He was no calmer, simply drained, his passion spent. Treize dropped his hand to his friend's shoulder, regarding him with concern.

'They really have told you nothing' he breathed, absently bringing his free hand to his forehead, pausing with his head resting against his fingers, his gaze cast down, for a moment. 'Quatre,' he began, haltingly, 'you, of all the Angels, were the only one created after. The others came into being at the Beginning, forged from the essence of creation; the substance of our Lord.' He paused, waiting for a response; Quatre simply stared at him in confusion. Treize sighed heavily and continued.  
'Lucifer: –you and he are not so very separate, my friend. You were, for want of a better term, his replacement.' There was an audible gasp from Quatre, and Treize squeezed the Angel's shoulder gently, understanding the difficulty he would have with this revelation. 'Of all the Angels, Lucifer was closest to God, and it was this closeness that damned him. He did nothing 'wrong'; in reality, it was the Lord that made a mistake. Now don't interrupt, Quatre', he placed a finger over his friend's lips, silencing the imminent protest, 'you need to hear this.

'God created humans in His image, with all His virtues and all His flaws. It was inevitable that the Angels, particularly Lucifer in his blind love, should fall for them' he winced at the unintended pun, but was relieved to see his friend had not been distressed further by it, had in fact, perhaps, not even been aware of it.

In the sudden silence Quatre frowned, clearly struggling to accept these ideas. Treize waited patiently for him to speak, and, when he did, it was in a quiet, subdued voice, a desperate statement spoken like the pitiable plea of a young child,

'But God is perfect.'

'No, Quatre' Treize told him gently, unable to suppress a sad smile at his friend's ingenuousness, 'though it is the view held by all the Angels, and even by many mortals. It is what so confounded Lucifer, for in humans he saw the flaws of God, yet he had not seen them in God Himself, and so he was confused. He could not understand the human capacity for evil or the scope of their emotions; nor could he comprehend their lack of appreciation of the deity that had created them. He walked among them hoping to learn, and he did; he learnt pain and he learnt fear, and he learnt doubt and with this new awareness he returned to God.' He paused to observe the effect his words were having; the Angel stared at him in rapt attention.

'God was displeased by this,' he continued, 'for He had directed Lucifer not to question His designs and not to interfere. He recognised that should any of the Angels become involved with the mortal world they would not be able to relinquish it. This was the case with Lucifer.'

'How do you know these things?' the interruption was barely audible.

'Even Angels gossip' Treize quipped lightly before reassuming a graver tone. 'The shock of Lucifer's fall has made them wary, but, inwardly, they admire him -they would envy him if they were capable of it- for he has a more profound understanding of the Lord than they ever may. But you are not like them, Quatre; you have made yourself different. You have seen the wonder of the mortals and their world; you feel their strength, the power of their spirit. Do not shrink from it, friend –embrace it, regardless of the consequences. Whatever the risks, they are outweighed by the alternative; an eternity of this distance and loneliness during which you will be consumed by speculation and regret.' He stopped abruptly, noticing the intensity of his tone. Tears had risen again the Angel's eyes and he allowed Treize to take his hand as, chokingly, he asked a question to which he feared to know the answer.

'But what are the flaws of God?'

'They are mirrored in the mortals He created; you have seen them yourself, Quatre. All are reasonable, and, perhaps, even plain when the right view is applied. Consider, for instance, the very faith He represents; as a sentient being, He must have beliefs of His own, yet He cannot follow another deity for He has called all other idols 'false'. And He cannot be an atheist for He would be defying His own existence. He therefore is compelled to believe in himself; this is oft considered an advantage, but it is also the root of egotism, self-consciousness and pride.

'And, furthermore, knowing the flaws in humans, and seeing their inevitable failures, God becomes a cynic, and so cynicism, pessimism and suspicion are born.

'And so you see the pattern of it; to continue would simply cause you further pain. But do not despair at these revelations, Quatre, for so too from him come the greatest of virtues, above all the ability to create, be it art, music, poetry or even life and the capacity to love.'

Quatre was silent, his face damp with tears. Dully, he felt Treize embrace him. The semi-corporeal aristocrat rose then, giving his friend a final pat on the shoulder as he drew slowly away.

'As a higher being, God is widely considered to have a greater capacity for good, but you must remember that all exists in balance, and so he has also a greater capacity for evil. With all you have experienced, this is true now, also, for you –the other Angels remain too shielded by blind love for it to apply to them. But that you are a rational being means you have a choice. This realm has nothing more to offer you, Quatre; perhaps now is the time to let go.' He smiled warmly as the Angel looked up at him with a pained understanding in his tear-brightened eyes, 'amor vincit omnia'.

* * *

_Progress has been slow; I have too many events planned with no preconception of how to link them. I apologise if any offence is caused by my theologising, but, naturally, am willing to stand by it. Ah well, the next chapter should be easier, and therefore posted with less delay. Until then… -Rose_

_(amor vincit omnia = love conquers all)_


	5. Lonely Saxophone

**_Chapter 5_**_…I return, and with the most profuse apologies for the length of my absence. My computer crashed and, though much was salvaged, one of the folders which was lost was that which contained all my writings, (including many pieces which were not fan-fiction) along with drawings of mine I had scanned in before giving them away. Those of you who enjoy writing or drawing as much as I do I'm sure will understand how perfectly awful this was for me. I was so disheartened, in fact, that it has taken me a while to convince myself to write again (as ridiculously dramatic as that may seem to some). But what's done is done, as they say, whoever 'they' are. I shall stop rambling irrelevantly at you and return to the story…_

_Disclaimer: After all this time, I still own none of the characters in this fic._

* * *

Heero ran without pause to the nameless park which had become his sanctuary, as if haste would change the reality of what he expected to find there. But immediately as he burst through the line of trees he slowed to a stop, his brow furrowing as the sight before him struggled to sink in.

Blackened and broken timbers and scattered ash on the scorched grass were all that remained of the once lovely gazebo.

Padding out of the trees to his left, he watched the arsonist move to perch on one of the protruding beams, an expectant grin playing about his features.

No tears rose in Heero's eyes though it affected something deep within him, but instead he allowed his body to convert the pain into silent fury as it had been disciplined to for so many years. Carefully he placed his case on the ground and reached for his gun for the second time that day. He hesitated then, surprised to find the holster empty.

'Lost something?' Duo smirked, the pistol appearing in his hand. 'You're in _London_ now, Heero, and this thing'll just get you arrested.' The devil twirled the weapon once, deftly, in his hand before pocketing it with a wink. And, with that, he scampered off into the trees once more.

* * *

'Trowa's in London?' The brunette's eyes were wild as she gripped her friend's shoulders with both hands.

'Catherine, please…'

'I can't believe he's been writing to you all these years when I've not had a single word from him. I'm his sister for God's sake.' Catherine began pacing back and forth, gathering essential belongings which she thrust into an impossibly small red rucksack.

'Perhaps he knew you'd react like this. If Trowa wanted you to save him he'd have asked you. You know that.' Lucrezia Noin brushed her fringe out of her eyes in annoyance, only to have it fall defiantly back into place.

'No, trowa would never ask for help; he's just as stubborn as father. He's out there on his own and I'm going to get him back.' Catherine shouldered the bulging rucksack and stormed outside to where her motorbike was propped against a low wall. The older woman followed quickly, arriving in time to see her revving the engine.

'What are you going to do if you find him; do you really think you can bring him back here? You know why he left, and even you won't be able to convince him to come back.' The brunette looked back at her, her expression earnest.

'Look, I know all this, but I've got to try. Please, I need your support in this, not your doubt. He's my little brother - there's got to be a chance…'

'Alright then; I suppose I'd do the same if he were mine.' Noin smiled forlornly and walked over to place her hand on the younger woman's arm. 'Good luck, Cathy. Give Trowa my love.'

'Thanks, Lu.' Placing one foot on the ground to steady the bike, Catherine leant down to embrace her friend warmly, then, wiping her hand quickly across her eyes, she gave a final, brief nod, and with a few more revs she sped off into the lonely distance.

* * *

Hindered by his case, which he was taking great care not to damage, Heero was barely able to keep sight of his quarry as he pursued him across the grass, occasionally having to dodge through patches of trees. It occurred to him that this park bore more resemblance to a patchy, ornamented forest, and it was sheer carelessness that it happened to have been discarded in the middle of a city.

At last he reached the far corner of the park where he found his pistol dangling from a rowan branch. There was no sign of the thief. Frustrated, Heero dropped heavily onto the grass beneath the rowan, leaning his back against its slender trunk. And, having replaced his weapon in its concealed holster –and therefore feeling far more at ease – he lay his black case on his lap, undoing the clasps with something akin to tenderness.

He was relieved to find his saxophone undamaged and lifted its pieces reverently from the case, assembling it with practiced ease. Laying the case aside, he uncrossed his legs, allowing the instrument to rest between his knees, then, closing his eyes, he began to play.

* * *

Trowa was puzzled as he passed through the park as he had every day since acquiring his new job, three nights after his encounter with an Angel on the streets of London. Each evening he crossed the park in which Quatre had revealed his identity, in the hope that, someday, he would see him again. Today, however, something was amiss; there was no music.

Trowa was accustomed to the sound of a lonely saxophone, pure and melancholy, drifting between the trees. Choosing not to diverge from his decided path, however, he had never seen the musician. Now he walked the route in pensive silence, his feet leading him, without his mind's conscious input, to the spot he paused at each time he reached it, where he had seen great, shimmering wings spread wide, confirming the sum of his hopes and his fears.

Drawing near, he was caused to smile slightly in surprise as the mellifluous tones of a familiar melody floated towards him across the grass. He quickened his pace just slightly, wondering at this sudden relocation of the unknown saxophonist.

He found him sat under a slender tree, his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to all but his music.

* * *

'Saxophone'. Heero had heard footsteps approaching the clearing so the voice did not startle him. He brought the mournful piece he was playing to a close before opening his eyes and turning them on the stranger.

'So yours is the lonely saxophone which accompanies me through this park each night.' Trowa met the musician's gaze and tried to make appreciation evident in voice. Heero's expression remained empty, though it was simply a blankness employed to mask the emotions he had been feeling all too keenly of late.

'The gazebo where I normally play has been destroyed.' he explained bleakly.

'No idea who could have done it?' Heero's impassive mask almost slipped, and Trowa caught the brief blaze in the boy's eyes.

'I'd never seen him before, but he burnt down the gazebo & broke into my apartment to tell me.' _Apartment?_ Trowa thought. _Possibly not English then._

'And you don't want to get the police involved.' He made it a statement so it would be clear to the musician that he understood.

Heero studied the stranger curiously for a moment, then extended his hand.

'Heero Yuy.'

'Trowa Barton' Trowa replied, shaking the other boy's hand. Heero nodded to the grass beside him and Trowa sat. 'You're not from around here, are you?' he asked after a moment or so.

'I don't have an accent.' Heero insisted; he had spent years removing any obvious trace of his identity, paying particular attention to his speech.

'No,' conceded the taller boy, regarding him with his unconcealed left eye, 'you just seem like you're from out of town.' Heero frowned at this, glaring at the end of his saxophone.

'My parents were Japanese, though I've spent most of my life in America.' He stopped –it was unlike him to talk so freely, particularly about himself. He turned to face his new acquaintance again, eyeing him with suspicion.

'Were?' Trowa inquired gently, picking up on the subtle phrasing.

'They died. It was an accident.' Heero stated in the bland tone which matched his expressionless mask –the same tone which had been used to tell him the news.

'Same' the other boy said quietly, causing Heero's expression to soften with vague surprise. 'We were circus folk', Trowa continued, 'my parents were acrobats. One of the safety specialists was trying to blackmail them without success. I was twelve at the time so the details were kept from me. But, one day the trapeze wasn't secured properly; it held the weight of one person, but when my mother leapt into my father's arms as he hung upside-down by his knees, their combined weight caused it to give way. They never used a net - they had never needed to - and it made their act even more impressive.

'They fell to their deaths.' Trowa paused, clenching his fists into tight balls. 'We all knew who was to blame, but it wasn't evidence enough. I watched him stand up in court and explain that he was not the only one to inspect the equipment – he neglected to mention that he was the last, and even denied it when questioned – he lied under oath; having sworn on the Bible, he claimed that my parents' death was "a tragic accident". That's when I lost my faith.

'He was acquitted. He lost his job, but his daughter was one of the clowns and a sweet girl. No one felt that they could force her to leave and be stuck alone with that man. But I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him each day, so I ran away. That was on the twenty-fourth of December. My elder sister, Catherine, woke up on Christmas morning to find her little brother gone. But street-life would have destroyed her - I couldn't have brought her with me.'

Heero watched the heavy-fringed boy with grim fascination as the tale unfolded and suddenly felt that he was seeing himself. Trowa related the events in the same dead monotone that Heero used, and only his eyes and the tension in his hands were indication that he felt anything at all. He found himself resting his hand on one of Trowa's tightly clenched fists which had now begun to shake slightly. Was this pity that he felt for this boy?

Trowa turned empty eyes on him, then, relaxing he squeezed the darker boy's hand gently in thanks, causing Heero to shift a little as something stirred within him.

* * *

Quatre watched, intrigued, as his devilish friend tormented the mortal, Heero. He disapproved, but was bemused by Duo's antics, wondering at his motive.

The Angel had developed a habit of studying the world below; having looked at extensively at art involving Angels, he had become quite taken with the idea of sitting on a cloud, intermittently aiding the affairs of humans. He now watched from the ethereal gardens, however, having discovered that clouds were actually quite damp and rather uncomfortable.

But when Trowa crossed the park - returning from the job for which Quatre had recommended him to the manager of the restaurant - Quatre began to understand his friend's plans.

He didn't understand the tightness that developed in his stomach as he watched how quickly amity developed between the two boys in the park, or the lump that formed in his throat. He simply knew that none of his half-formed hopes would come to anything more, and, worse, Duo had orchestrated this.

He watched his tears, sparkling as they fell, melt into the swirling design of the marble path.

_:You are troubled, Quatre.:_ The Angel did not raise his head, for he knew there would be no one to see. Instead he drew his arms tighter around himself, welcoming the sympathetic warmth that flooded through him.

'My Lord, my devotion to you is absolute, but I cannot renounce the mortal world even for your heavenly realm. I do not understand what I am feeling, though I realise this means my place is no longer here.' The power washed over him again and more words formed inside his head.

_:It was inevitable, Quatre, from the beginning. What you feel is doubt, and that has no place in this realm. Though you have done nothing which can be construed as "wrong", you no longer belong here._

_Farewell, Quatre - may you find peace.:_

He felt himself falling.

And as he fell, it began to snow.

* * *

_My modem has had a tantrum and no longer functions; that is my reason for even further delay in posting. Until a replacement is acquired, I shall be posting chapters only when I have access to some other kind soul's computer._

_I am rapidly developing a strong dislike of these machines._

Ah well - I hope this chapter was not too confusing. Farewell for now. -Rose


	6. An Angel's Doubt

**_Chapter 6_**_…My modem still doesn't seem to like me very much, so I am afraid, Iamawriter1, that my computer has not fully recovered but I should be back on normal terms with it by the end of the week. Hurrah! Now, without further delay, chapter six…_

_Disclaimer: No, I still own none of the characters in this fic._

* * *

Utterly forsaken, no longer could he feel the perpetual warmth that had ever surrounded him. He realised then that it would never return; he would never be allowed back into Heaven. For the first time in his existence, he was truly alone. On the snow covered ground he knelt, his face buried in his hands as he wept.

* * *

Heero started when the first snowflake settled on the back of his neck and it took a measure of willpower to refrain from shouting at the other boy who had uttered a surprised chuckle. Hastily, he began dismantling his saxophone, wiping fast-melting flakes from the metal before placing the pieces in their case.

'I have to get back to my… _flat_' he stated carefully, looking at Trowa. He had heard several Londoners use the word "apartment", but felt he ought to humour his new friend. _Friend?_ He considered this - it was a curious possibility.

'Will you be coming here again?' Trowa inquired hopefully, though he tried to keep his tone neutral.

'Perhaps' though he doubted it. Today had been unsettling, and the ease with which Heero had found himself talking to this stranger, even about matters of which he had denied himself thought for years, made him wary. He was caught between a desire to stay and see what could become of this "friendship" - which was startlingly contrary to his training - and the impulse to run and never return. Could he trust this individual who had so easily breached all his carefully laid defences?

Trowa stood as Heero did, snow melting in his hair & beginning to drip off the end of his fringe.

'See you'. The boys shook hands brusquely, and with an awkward smile Heero strode away.

Trowa remained standing, staring after him, until even the gentle, rhythmic thud of the black case against the other boy's left leg had faded. Finally, he sat again, resting his head back against the rowan with a sigh and staring up at the flurry of whiteness descending between the bare branches.

* * *

When the snow began to fall Catherine knew she should stop, but she was so close to her goal. She was in London; all she needed to do was find the restaurant Trowa had mentioned in his letter - perhaps he would still be working, even. Her visibility was impaired, but at least the roads had already been salted, so the snow wouldn't stick to build in her path.

'You'll want to be careful in this weather, lass'. Startled by the voice, she glanced back, but was unable to see the speaker through the snow-filled darkness.

Reflecting on the incident later, she might decide that she wouldn't have seen the patch of black ice anyway. But there was no time for idle thoughts as her bike spun out of control & she lost her grip on the handlebars.

* * *

Quatre walked alone through empty, evening streets. From the houses - over-adorned with garish lights and festive decorations - floated the voices of families; children's laughter and parents' fevered preparations for the days to come. An inflatable snowman menaced from the roof of one house, and in the garden of another a tabby kitten pounced on the shifting pools of light cast by a fibre-optic tree.

Quatre paused to watch, and the multitude of tiny points of light made him think of the stars. Unconsciously, he tilted his head back to regard the night sky, ignoring the snow which settled on his upturned face. He sighed with regret; one could rarely see the stars from London. And as he gazed he began to wish he could lose himself in that blackness; become safe in oblivion.

Then, through the darkness and silencing snow, he heard a scream.

* * *

Unable to free herself from the runaway bike, Catherine was dragged along the icy tarmac, struggling to keep her head away from the ground as she felt the skin being stripped from her unprotected legs. The rock salt on the road buried itself in the open wounds, adding to the searing pain, and the rough surface of the road continued to bite deeper into the raw flesh.

Though her legs were burning, her fingers were becoming numb with the cold, and slowly she began to lose her hold on the side of the bike - the only thing keeping the rest of her body elevated from the tarmac. Pain in her face told her she'd brought it too close to the tyre, and then a sudden impact caused her to lose her grip entirely.

She was flung fully to the ground as the bike spun to a stop, falling onto her chest. She heard something snap, but couldn't work out what. Every nerve in her body roared with pain, and she was aware of blood trickling steadily from her face & back. The roar of the engine had ceased, but still she was being deafened by some piercing, relentless sound.

As she gave way to merciful darkness, she realised it was her own screaming.

* * *

Heero saw the motorbike go careening past him and found himself running after it even before he had properly registered the event. As he drew nearer he was surprised to see that the rider was a girl not more than two or three years older than himself.

From the waist up she was quite pretty, with thick brown curls framing her too-pale features, and but for the shallowness of her breathing, one might have thought she was asleep. But from somewhere above the hemline of her short skirt, her body was a ruin.

It was difficult to distinguish the shape of the girl's torn and bloody legs from the redness of the still-falling snow. She had lost one black shoe; the other was scuffed and the buckle broken. Her lace-trimmed socks had soaked as red as the snow.

A blonde-haired boy dressed in blue and white rushed over, presumably from a neighbouring street. Seeing Heero, he stopped suddenly, a strange expression passing across his face. He seemed about to speak when a loud female voice sounded from somewhere behind him.

'Oh, Lord, I'll get some blankets. Has anyone called an ambulance?' Appearing through the snow, an elderly gentleman nodded an affirmation, waving a mobile phone at her.

Another, younger man in a business suit appeared from somewhere to kneel beside the girl, finding, in the outer pocket of her rucksack, a battered, brown leather wallet. Flicking it open, he studied a laminated card bearing a smiling photo of the girl's face.

'Catherine Bloom' he announced after a moment. Both Quatre and Heero glanced at him in surprise.

_Catherine?_ Heero quickly dismissed the idea, yet he couldn't help staring at the girl as he helped the suited man move the motorbike from her body, searching her face for similarities.

Quatre's surprise was of a different nature; he realised suddenly that none of these people, stopping in the road, late on a winter's evening, knew the girl, not the tall Nina Simone look-alike dutifully patrolling the corner on the lookout for oncoming traffic, nor the young man soaking his fine linen suit in the melting, salted ice of the road, nor even Heero who had just gouged his hand on the twisted metal of the bike.

Life to these mortals, even that of a stranger, was so precious; _it's the greatest thing they have_, he reflected, _and they have never known anything more_. He had, and he had lost it. Suddenly, again, he felt so very alone; these humans knew not how it felt to be forsaken.

_:You__ are not forsaken, Quatre, simply free: _Not a voice, but a thought, a warm breath of suggestion straight into his mind. _:You__ are free to win your Lord's favour as the mortals may, simply by being the kind, compassionate being you have so often shown yourself to be:_

'Hey, kid' Quatre found himself staring at the sky, 'when you hit Earth again, give us a hand with these blankets.' He knelt quickly to assist the woman, a petite creature whose powerful voice belied her stature, carefully lifting the injured girl's legs, smiling quietly at the woman's exclamations of 'Oh, Lord' as she used blue linen blankets to staunch the bleeding, her tight black curls bobbing frantically.

Then, at last, a siren's wail began to grow through the night.

* * *

_Perfect_. Duo grinned, watching from the shadows as the ambulance crew gently lifted the body of the girl onto a stretcher which they carried to the ambulance, the linen blankets, made purple with blood, trailing a line of dark drips in the snow of the pavement.

A gaunt-looking man insisted Heero go with them to a hospital whilst Quatre, who had recognised the girl immediately, explained to the stretcher bearers that Catherine was the sister of a dear friend of his.

Duo listened long enough to ascertain that the ambulance was bound for the Royal London Hospital, before sprinting off to a place he had already visited once that day.

* * *

_I believe the tale is almost complete. Chaz, Daniel, yes I am teasing you about your flat/apartment argument; after all, you did request a reference to yourselves. Thank you for reading. Rose_


End file.
